Quintus had wisely chosen a spot among the spearmen at the platform. Judging by the turmoil in Victor's blue eyes, the boy might as well try his luck with the beasts; and it had nothing on the thunder and lightning I would have unleashed on that curly head, were I on the boat...

I wasn't.

Victor and Junius were my best chance to keep the young idiot alive, so I shouldered my way back to the railing. The gladiators' boat made it about the third of the way to the island.

Could Victor read the command on my face over that distance? I could rely on Junius, but Victor was an unknown quantity. Would he look after Quintus on his own accord? Under his arrogance, he had to hide a heart of pure gold... right? I had nothing else to count on. Nothing!

Around me, silence replaced the screaming, in that breathless moment of calm before the storm. Only the splashing from the oars broke it, because the behemoth made less sound than shadows as they ran underwater, on the bottom of the lake.

I leaned over the railing, stretching toward Victor. He eyed the island—they were half-way to the shore—then faced the dark shapes charging at them under water. I did too, making a quick, deadly accurate calculation. There were no ifs or buts about it: the alpha behemoth would hit the longboat before it made the landfall.

Victor handed his spear to Junius.

I pounded the railing, scraping skin off my knuckles. So, it stung, so what? Mithras' bulls, I wanted it to hurt more! What was Victor doing? This was no time for clowning around, let alone laying down his weapons. The crowd in the arena might spare a favorite's life on a whim, but counting on the beasts' mercy? He had to fight if we stood a chance.

Victor crouched, searched for something by his feet, then straightened back up. He held a baby-sized bundle. I didn't have a chance to freak out, because he ripped an animal hide off of it, revealing its content.

It wasn't a baby.

I expelled a sigh of relief, because I didn't know what to expect from Victor.

What he revealed was another sack, made of rough cloth. It dripped inky liquid. O praise Mithras! We were safe, and the behemoths pissed themselves.

The men closest to Victor leaned away, scrunching their faces in disgust, but they didn't have to suffer the stench for long. With a mighty swing of his arm, Victor flung his parcel far out into the lake. It hit the water with an enormous splash, bursting open on the impact. Dark circles spread from it on the still surface. It was dramatic, but...

"Are you mad?" I hollered. "Are you raving mad?"

People around me must have felt differently. Nobody else pulled the hair on their head. Some of them boo'd, while the others cheered the behemoths on, as if the savage beasts needed their encouragement to do the thing.

The gladiators on the oars rowed, oblivious to the pandemonium. The world probably went black for them, their bodies strained so hard. I could see ropes of muscle bulging with every move in their backs, and the veins swelling with racing blood spider webbing under the skin. Blue skin or brown, it didn't matter; they were in it together.

I bit my nail down to the meat. It wouldn't matter if their tendons burst, trying to get away.

The alpha behemoth would batter the flimsy boat any moment now. Or upend it for the rest of his herd to join into a festival of stomping the squishy humans. If there was mercy in this world, the men would drown on their way to the bottom of the lake.

The alpha's body reared up from the water. His jaws broke the surface already gaping in a blood-curdling scream. The tusks and the boils on the behemoth's nose menaced us as it swirled in a circle, creating a vortex. This agitated water drew the boat toward its demise.

The rowers heaved, each muscle bulging just short of where the body couldn't take it anymore.

Pulled in two different directions, the boat rocked so badly that Quintus swayed on his feet. Junius yanked him back by his shirt, saving him from toppling into the lake. The rowers' extreme effort won a minor victory. The vessel straightened and broke free of the beast-created current's grip.

Victor watched the alpha behemoth with a preternatural calm, before extending his hand to his brothers. Maybe he said something, maybe he didn't. It was impossible to tell with the behemoths' roar, broiling water and the crowd shrieking with thousand throats. Junius inserted the spear back into Victor's hand.

"Throw it, curse it!" I yelled from my seat.

Victor hefted his weapon and raised his other fist in a signal to wait.

Who elected him the gladiator's captain? When? How? Despite frustration crashing my temples with a sledgehammer, a bit of pride tugged on my gut. Nobody had to elect him, was my guess, because Victor was born to lead and he just did. I knew it! I knew it.

The spectators had reached a consensus in their shouting. "Killit—killit—killit!" they chanted in unison.

Though being fair, I wouldn't take a wager on which team they wanted to die, the men or the behemoths. Me, I wanted the behemoths to burst into flames. Were I a god...

Of course, the beats didn't explode to please me. They, however, did the next best thing. They stopped their advance, watching their alpha whirl from a safe distance.

In my reeling mind, a thought blinked that maybe Victor performed some barbaric ritual to halt them.

Then, the stalemate broke. The alpha behemoth lunged out of the water. It could have spelled the end of the show, except for one change in the script. His prey wasn't the boat. The damnable bull went for Victor's bundle.

All the while, it gently bobbed on the waves, creating a widening inky puddle. I had forgotten all about it with all the excitement, but now I barked a laugh.

Victor was as much of a druid, as I was a god. What I'd just witnessed wasn't a mystical connection between a druid and a beast. I saw a hunter who set bait. A simple bait, if superbly potent. Because Victor was a hunter, and not just any old hunter. When I quick-talked our school out of trouble with Messalina Augusta, I accidentally hit on the truth. Victor was a superb hunter, just like the forefather of his people.

I would box his ears for not telling me his plan and nearly giving me a fit. Later... for now, I laughed in embarrassment and relief, and breathed my fill. For who knew when I would breathe freely again? This was far from over. Far, far from over.

Whatever animalistic instinct Victor triggered with his concoction, it was powerful enough to draw the second largest behemoth to the bundle, despite his alpha's guarding it. Both beasts attacked the bundle with powerful blows. Each could have split the gladiator's boat into kindling.

The more substance poured out of Victor's mystery sack, the more enraged the beasts became. They snapped their teeth at the rest of the herd, alerting them of the 'intruder'.

The gladiators rowed, now three-quarters way to the relative safety of the island, but the behemoths stopped caring about the wooden craft.

Two bulls snarled at one another, baring their teeth, while the cows watched. There could be only one outcome to that—and the arena-goers wanted it so badly!

"Two sestertii on the smaller one!" my neighbor's ear-piercing squeal nearly deafened me.

Another guy, the smarter one, backed the older bull immediately.

They shook on the bet, and so did their neighbors, and so forth and so on, until everyone in the stands was gambling on the novel duel. Nobody had seen anything like this in the Colosseum before.

On any other day, I would have had my eyes on the bulls too, and my fingers in my money belt. But today, all that occupied me was the distance between the boat and the rocks. Even if the two biggest behemoths annihilated one another, there were enough beasts left in the water to grind my boys into dust.

My lips formed the words, 'come on, come on, comeooon...'

I shook my fists in the air when the boat hit the landing. I would have slumped in relief, if the crowd's shoulders weren't propping me up. Things were looking up, but, Senators, you know how devious Fortuna is!

An oar snapped when it hit the marble shore. Alas, this bang didn't just jolt me. It spooked the herd out of their stupor, making them forget their bulls. They growled and launched in hot pursuit of the abandoned prey.

On the island, the gladiators rushed out of the boat and spread out, looking for supplies and cover. And not too soon!

The fastest of the remaining behemoths rose out of the water. She threw her chest, as wide as five men's, against the boat, sending the splinters flying. While the beast shoved against the hull, her three girlfriends charged up the rocks.

The gladiators perked up on the dry land. They called orders to one another, setting up a classical game of baiting and herding.

Once the first cow was winded from the chase and isolated, they slaughtered it with a simultaneous hit of as many spears as they could spare. The rest of the men kept the herd occupied. They crawled over the rocks like ants, unearthing then passing around supplies from the hidden caches.

Their strategy worked so well, in fact, that it became boring. More people were watching the side-show of a bull versus bull, than the men versus beasts. Let them watch what they like; I couldn't take my eyes off Victor's tall figure.

If there was a doubt in my mind that he was an exceptional fighter, it would have evaporated today. He was everywhere at once, running, climbing, shouting, stubbing. Not one ungraceful move, let alone wasted. Those who bet on the behemoths were fools. Victor was gold. Drool-worthy. I would make him the Champion of Champions this season, or my name wasn't Maximus!

In my excitement, I'd nearly lost sight of Quintus. Then, some instinct made me seek him out in the melee. The gladiators delegated the boy to supply runs, a wise move. He was foraging ever wider and should have been far from the thick of the battle, except...

Except, the larger of the two dueling behemoths had finally hooked up the smaller one's jaw with its chopped tusk, and tore through it. Dark blood squirted from the wound.

Screams of triumph and outrage shook the stadium.

Quintus glanced nervously, then squatted behind the chest he was pillaging. He must have figured the winning bull would finish his opponent, and that would give him time to do his job then flee. But the beast left its rival drowning in its own blood and rushed to the defense of the cows... one cow, actually, still drawing breath on the island; and Quintus was in his way.

The mountain of hairy flesh bore straight at Quintus. Quintus straightened, realizing his mistake and still clutching an armful of spears.

"Run!" I scream-whispered.

Unfortunately, even though most of the island was littered with pillars and rock piles, Quintus was caught on an open stretch of the beach. Again, Senators, Fortuna's smiles are deceiving.

Quintus took off, but in his head-long sprint, he caught his toe on a boulder. His weak ankle gave out, and the leg folded under him, unable to bear his weight. The spears went flying out of his grasp. He toppled to the ground.

For a scary half-heart-beat I feared he hit his head on another rock, fainting, but he flopped over, sat up, crawled backwards... he even threw handfuls of sand to confuse the beast. Tears stung my eyes—the boy never gave up. I could have made him into a great fighter in his own right, if not for his ill-fated infatuation, for his pig-headed drive to impress me because of it.

The crowd locked me down in its press toward the railing. Everyone wanted to see better. The thirsty 'killit—killit—killit!' cry swept through the crowd with a renewed vigor.

I would have given my right arm to be on the island. I would have fought with my left. I would have tore the behemoth's throat out with my teeth, if I had to! This was impossible, so it left me hopping in one spot and screaming myself hoarse.

Victor came flying up the rock above Quintus' head.

"Not today, bastards!" I yelled. Take that, ye human garbage, harkening for human blood! May Nemesis send pox your way! May your genitals shrivel and—

Victor jumped in front of the beast. My heart palpitated from a mix of emotions so potent, I couldn't tell them apart. Who has time for that?

Victor dropped into a slide, slipping underneath the behemoth. He brought his spear up and thrusted it with all his might at some vital, vulnerable spot on the beast's underside.

The behemoth shuddered and collapsed to the ground, stone-cold dead.

I pressed my hand to my chest, clutching fabric and skin. With Victor's agility, he should roll out and jump to his feet on the other side of the behemoth... Then he'd wave for cheers. He should do it right about now... He nearly did. Very nearly.

Alas, in our line of work, almost a win is called a loss.

Victor was doing everything right, and he was great. The behemoth simply proved too enormous and the hunter's aim—too precise.

The falling carcass pinned Victor's right side and legs underneath its bulk.